


Massages and Maintaining Consciousness

by iwastetimechasingcars



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, Massage, No Sex, basic porn plot, i liked writing this because it was so intimate, in the words of an unnamed person, with out the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwastetimechasingcars/pseuds/iwastetimechasingcars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masseuse in training Marco Bodt makes a hell of a cup of Hot Cocoa and gives a hell of a massage. </p>
<p>Stressed student Jean Kirchstein with the perfect skin and  bags under his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Massages and Maintaining Consciousness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flecksofpoppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/gifts).



> Hi, flecksofpoppy! I really wanted to do a bit of your fan fiction as a podfic, but I fell in love with this prompt. I was your secret santa, and on tumblr I am theactualpeterparker. I did my best on this trying to get the depictions of touching as accurate as possible, so I hope you enjoy! :) Happy holidays!

“It’s warm in here.” Jean said. He shimmied off his peacoat and scarf, placing it on the kitchen chair, folding them both gently over it. “Eren’s not here?”

 

Marco shook his head, trying to break through the fine line of lethargy between sleep and wake. Jean woke him up moments earlier by knocking on the door. “I thought he forgot the key again.” Marco yawned. “He’s working tonight.” 

 

The two of them unconsciously looked over to the empty loveseat Eren had claimed as his own whenever he was home. A warm blanket was hastily thrown over the back cushions and arm rest before Eren had rushed off to work. 

 

“Are you?” Jean asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”

 

Marco shrugged. “I don’t work tonight. My internship occupies my weekday afternoons.” Jean sat down in the loveseat across from Marco, and reached for the TV remote on the end table. 

 

“You mind?” Jean held up the remote. 

 

Marco shook his head. “No, you can watch.” He stood up and stretched his hands over his head, elongating his body, and feeling the hem of his shirt tickle his belly button. He groaned in pleasure. “Do you want any hot chocolate?” 

 

“Yeah,” Jean turned the TV on, “Sure.” 

 

 

\----------

“Thank you.” Jean hummed as he took the warm cup of hot chocolate Marco provided him. Marco had truly outdone himself. Hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and sprinkled carefully with cinnamon. Jean wondered if Marco had made it a habit to always make his hot chocolate in this manner. 

 

“Your welcome.” Marco said. He sat down on the other couch, holding his mug with both hands. “What are you watching.”

 

“It’s the  _ I Love Lucy _ Christmas special.” Jean sipped his hot chocolate carefully. “I watch it at the end of every winter semester.”

 

“You’re still in school?” Marco asked. “I thought you were just getting an Associate’s.” 

 

“I am.” Jean answered. “I’m a year younger than you and Eren. I’ve only got one semester left.”

 

“So you just finished finals?” Marco placed his mug on the end table and reached over for his blanket. “How did they go?”

Jean shrugged. “Same as all finals, I guess.” He sighed and let his head drop back on the cushion. “I stressed out for two whole weeks and I think my body is on the verge of dissipating.”

 

“I used to be the same way.” Marco admitted. “Anxiety and stress and forgetting meals. Horrible.”

 

“Did you ever get over it?” Jean asked. He used his pointer finger to scoop up whip cream and put it in his mouth.

 

“I used to have incense. Scented candles. Whenever it ran out I would take a small break.” 

 

“What do you do now?”

 

“Internship.” 

 

“Oh.” Jean said. “Where at?” 

 

“The massage center at the plaza.” Marco said. “I’m in training right now even though I have my certificate.”

 

Jean chuckled. “Damn, I haven’t had a massage in years.” 

 

Marco scoffed. “I haven’t given one since I graduated last May.” He shook his head in disbelief. “The management is adamant on having me complete the internship before I work.” 

 

There was a silence that fell between the two, uncomfortably. Jean sipped the hot chocolate graciously, and the TV played in the back. Outside, the two could hear the wind howling and slamming into anything with might, and instantly became gracious that they were inside. The apartment was small, but the two men managed to find a way to fit in with it awkwardly. 

 

Marco coughed. “Did you, uh, want a massage maybe?” 

 

Jean’s head snapped over to him, probably causing whiplash. There was a fire in his eyes fueled by gratitude meant for Marco. “Please.”

 

\----------

 

The TV was off. Marco didn’t work with it on. He had a massage table set out in the middle of the living room for Jean, and he was ashamed to say he hadn’t used it in a while. 

 

Jean was nervous in the most peculiar way possible. It was someone he hadn’t known very well touching him in places that usually, required a prerequisite of dinner and a movie before being touched there. 

But it was Marco. He was gentle. He settled him in, playing soft music and lighting apple pie scented candles (Jean’s personal favorite). He gave Jean a pair of sweatpants to slip into, despite having to be shirtless. 

 

“How long have you known Eren?” Marco asked. Jean could hear Marco looking through his bottles, trying to find the right one. “This one comes on warm.”

 

Marco’s voice had changed. It was softer and calmer. While Marco’s friendly disposition radiated off him brightly no matter what, a switch came and it zoomed in and focused on Jean.

 

Jean’s back arched and sharply took in a breath as Marco poured the oil on his spine. He snapped the lid closed and put it away. 

 

Marco’s hands were perfect for massages, Jean decided, as Marco spread the oil all over his back. In an instant, Jean was the most relaxed he had been in weeks. 

 

“Since high school.” Jean said, his voice muffled by the massage table. “I used to have a crush on his sister.” 

 

“Mikasa?” 

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“Hmm. Being in a relationship with Eren since high school is still pretty good feat.”

 

Jean shot up and whipped his head to Marco, his eyes epiphanising. Marco took a step back, frightened at the sudden reaction. 

 

_ “You mean you aren’t in a relationship with Eren?” _

 

For a moment, Marco was confused. Jean’s words repeating in his mind trying to register what Jean meant. 

 

And then he laughed. 

 

“No, I’m not in a relationship with Eren.” Marco stepped forward and put a firm hand on Jean’s back, setting him back down on the table. “We’re just roommates because rent can be expensive.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Jean was warm all over. Wherever Marco’s touch was, the constant pushing and pulling of his skin was too. The oil was wondrous, working his skin in the way that reminded him of summers by the beach before he was in college. 

 

Marco hummed along with the music playing, kneading generously into Jean’s pale skin. After seeing freckles on his body for so long, Marco was amazed that skin could be such a blank canvas. No tattoos, no blemishes or scars, not even an out of place stretch mark. Jean was not a built man, but he was a beautiful creature sculpted out of marble. Had puberty been a kind burden on Jean?

 

Marco ran his hands up and down his back, from the base of Jean’s neck, down to the very bottom of the waistband. 

 

“I want to go to sleep.” Jean mumbled. “Everything is making me sleepy.” 

 

Marco rubbed the heel of his hand up to Jean’s shoulder blades, and manipulated his fingers into working on the two joints. He felt every muscle and bone in Jean’s body, massaging them with ease and patience. 

 

“You can’t do that.” Marco said, “There isn’t an extra bed for you to sleep.”

 

“Mmm.” Jean moaned, “I swear to God this is absolutely wonderful.” He turned his head to the side, facing Marco. His eyes were closed. His speech was slow. 

 

Marco repositioned himself directly in front of Jean’s body. He let his hands glide down Jean’s spine slowly, with long and smooth strokes, and brought them back from the bottom of his hips and stretched them back over his shoulders. Rinse and repeat. No traction. No friction. No tension. 

 

“You aren’t ticklish?” Marco asked, despite the answer being obvious. He was glad. 

 

“Mmm-mm.” Jean answered. “Not on my sides.”

 

“That’s good.” Marco replied. “Talk to me, Jean, you’re going to sleep.” 

 

Marco stretched over to the small of Jean’s back, laying his palms flat. He used his thumbs to set in a circular motions like petals. He could feel Jean relaxing with every movement and every breath. With every single second that passed by, there was a restfulness that Jean swept into. 

 

“‘Bout what?” He mumbled. 

 

Marco returned his hands to Jean’s neck, and ran his hands down Jean’s spine, letting his fingers roll under his hands. Marco used the knuckles in his fingers to roll out kinks in the small of Jean’s back. He could feel every vertebrae in his spine, every ridge in his hip, and every dimple in his back. 

 

“Are you going back home for winter break?” 

 

Jeaned moaned as Marco kneaded the center of his spine. 

 

He was glad that extended friend Marco Bodt was the kind heart to give Jean a massage. Jean, who had messy hair and a thirsty heart. Jean who craved hands in his hair and nails down his back and kisses down his spine and even though this isn’t any of those, this would do kindly. Jean, who was shirtless on someone’s table with only the scent of apple pie between them. He was golden at this. He felt golden. 

 

“No.” Jean muttered. His voice trailed off.”I might just stay… here.”

 

Marco stopped. “Jean?”

  
He had fallen asleep.  


End file.
